


A Night to Ourselves

by dayishujia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mob, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Flirting, Foul Language, Kissing, M/M, Mob Prince!Yuri, Right Hand Man!Otabek, Scars, Secret Relationship, Slight Voyeurism, Teasing, Undressing, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat, Yuri steals clothes, Yuri wears Otabek's shirt, gangster!Otabek, yuri has a foul mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 11:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11850795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayishujia/pseuds/dayishujia
Summary: “We're finally alone,” Yuri mused against his mouth. He broke the kiss just to taunt him. “And all you're going to do is kiss me?”





	A Night to Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> shit title is shit. sorry about it lol  
> first otayuri fic and its halfway explicit lol idk if its something to be proud of heheh  
> its also unbeta'ed so...

Upon entering the room, Otabek wasn't all that surprised to see Yuri standing in the center of it. Neither was he surprised to see him wearing one of the many shirts he had stolen from him over the years. 

This shirt happened to be a favorite of Otabek's. It was only a matter of time before it mysteriously appeared in Yuri’s collection.

When Yuri noticed him, a sly, proud grin spread over his face.

“Like it?” he asked. He held his arms out to his sides, showing off the shirt hanging loosely over his frame. 

Otabek couldn't help but be drawn in at the sight of the bottom hem sliding up Yuri’s bare thighs. 

“It suits you,” he answered, before remembering himself. “Sir.”

Yuri tutted at him. He dropped his arms and turned, walking toward the grand window that overlooked their beloved city. “You're not on duty now, are you?”

“Always, sir.”

Yuri frowned. He tried again. “You're not on duty now.”

“If you say so,” Otabek answered. “...sir.”

“God!” Yuri exclaimed. He whirled around on his heel, throwing his hands in the air as he did. 

“I know you think you're being cute, you ass. Drop the ‘sir’ bullshit. No one’s here but the two of us. And I'm wearing _your_ _shirt_. _Only_ your shirt. And you're --”

Otabek took his words for what they were -- an invite. When Yuri saw him approach, he stopped yelling. 

“Good,” he said as Otabek wound his arms around him. “For a minute there, I thought I was gunna have to get my grandfather in here and make him order you to fuck me.”

Otabek blanched.

Yuri grinned up at him in the way he always did when he got his way. “Good thing you're a good listener.”

“Only when I like what you're saying.”

“Hm.” Yuri dragged a slender finger over Otabek’s chest. 

Otabek wasted no more time. He cupped Yuri’s chin and brought him in for a sweet kiss, moving slowly so Yuri could move away if he wished.

Otabek kissed him, palm moving from his chin to his cheek as Yuri pressed his body up against his.

He loved this; these little moments in the day where they met as lovers instead of comrades. 

Holding Yuri -- his dangerous, ruthless Yuri --  like this never stopped feeling unreal. It was as if this was what he was put on earth to do and he swore he'd never get enough.

“We're finally alone,” Yuri mused against his mouth. He broke the kiss just to taunt him. “And all you're going to do is kiss me?”

Otabek hummed. He pulled away far enough to look down at the heir. He snaked his hands down, palms flattened against his back until the shirt ended, hanging loose over his hips. He trailed his fingertips up, under the shirt and over the gentle curve of his ass, leaving a trail of goosebumps over Yuri's milky skin in their wake.

“I thought we had all night?” he teased back.

Not known for his patience, Yuri fisted Otabek's thin tie and yanked him forward, down to his height. He growled, “Doesn't mean we need to wait till dusk.”

Next thing he knew, he was sprawled out over Yuri's bed and Yuri was crawling up over him. The shirt hiked up, up, up, dangerously high on his thighs as he moved up his body and captured his mouth in a bruising kiss.

Otabek’s hand unwittingly returned to their previous spot on the smaller man's rear, only to have Yuri drag them up, over his head.

Something dangerous glinted in his eye as he said, “No touching.”

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

Yuri grinned at him and pecked his lips. “All in due time.”

He loosened Otabek's tie first, just enough to be able to undo the buttons of his dress shirt, easing them open and trailing his fingertips over the skin underneath. 

When the shirt was open, crumpled up on either side of him, Yuri leaned back to admire the view. 

Otabek was well used to finding himself shirtless in front of the young heir; it no longer fazed him in the slightest. The thought of the beautiful, ephemeral Yuri seeing his imperfections no longer bothered him, as they never seemed to bother Yuri in the first place.

“Where's this one from?” Yuri trailed his finger over a pink, slightly raised scar just under his ribcage.

“Barfight,” Otabek answered. “When I used to work for your grandfather as a bouncer.”

Yuri nodded. Of course, he already knew that. He already knew the origin of most of his scars, some of which Yuri was there to witness them being inflicted.

That didn't stop him from asking.

“This one?”

“Viktor,” he said. “Accident in the gym.”

“Here. This one.” He dragged his finger over a round, circular scar on his left side, right by his shoulder.

Otabek looked up at Yuri. “You know very well.”

“Hm.” Yuri grinned. “Yes, I do. But tell me again.”

Otabek darted up, attempting a kiss to distract Yuri and move on to something better than canvassing his vast collection of scars, but Yuri dodged him.

“Tell me,” he said. “And I'll let you touch me.”

Otabek opened his mouth to answer but was so rudely interrupted by a knock at the door. He let himself flop back down on the mattress with a groan.

“Ignore it,” Yuri prompted. He flattened his hand over the scar.

Otabek let out a little noise, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It's probably Georgi,” he said knowing full-well that it was Georgi.

It was always Georgi.

“All the more reason.” Yuri rolled his eyes. He put a little more pressure onto the scar under his palm, effectively earning Otabek’s attention again. Yuri grinned down at him and drawled, “Now. The scar.”

Otabek was fully prepared to forget about poor Georgi on the other side of the door and humor Yuri’s little need for a story if it would allow him to just _touch_ _him_...

...When another knock interrupted them, echoing loudly through the room.

Yuri ground his teeth. “ _ Otabek _ .”

Yet another knock. 

“Answer him,” Otabek told him then, sitting upright once more. “Answer him and we can move on.”

“Fine,” Yuri growled. He pushed Otabek onto his back, undid his slacks and gave them a good yank down his thighs. 

Yuri grinned slyly at Otabek when he grunted and attempted to tug his pants back up over his hips.

Last thing he wanted Georgi to see was him in nothing but his underwear, which was no longer doing much to cover him. 

“You wanted me to answer it,” Yuri said in a low, gravelly murmur. “Remember that.”

He positioned his hips just right over Otabek's and part of Otabek was angry over the fact that Georgi was about to see Yuri in such an intimate moment, one that was originally only for Otabek to witness.

“Come in.”

The door opened without a moment's hesitation and Georgi, Yuri's unwitting personal guard, entered.

He froze.

A moment passed in silence.

Yuri shifted his weight, chuckling when Otabek poorly silenced a moan. He did it again, taking obvious delight in watching Otabek bite his fist to contain himself. 

The little roll of his hips that Otabek was unable to stifle tore a small noise from Yuri's throat. 

“...Well?” Yuri asked, prompting Georgi all the while never taking his eyes off Otabek's face. 

“M-my apologies, sir.” Georgi wisely averted his gaze from the scene in front of him. His cheeks turned a dark shade of pink nonetheless.

Otabek took pity on him; he could only imagine what they looked like.

“What is it, Georgi.”

“Your grandfather,” he started. He swallowed his nerves, eyes still cast downward and away from the pair on the bed. “He wishes you a good night.” 

Above him, Yuri snorted a laugh, nearly choking on it.  “Is that all?” he asked, sounding wonderfully amused.

After a slight hesitation, Georgi continued, “And to remind you of the business meeting. First thing in the morning.”

“Yes,” Yuri answered. “Well, I shall have a good night.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good night, Georgi.”

“Good night, sir.”

And then, after an extended pause, “...Do you wish to watch, Georgi?”

Georgi scrambled out the door, slamming it rather unceremoniously behind him.

Before Yuri could make a move, Otabek made his. He surged upright, flipping Yuri onto his back and securing the new position with Yuri's wrists planted firmly on either side of his head. 

Yuri pouted up at him, attempting the sweetest look in his repertoire despite the little show he just gave his guard. 

“No fair. I wasn't paying attention.”

Otabek leaned over him, careful not to their bodies touch too firmly, and nuzzled Yuri’s neck. “You have a lot to learn, Yura.”

Yuri hummed. He arched up ever so slightly, just enough to press his body more firmly against Otabek’s above him.

“Don't think I've forgotten,” he hummed. “The scar.”

Otabek growled, biting the tender skin of Yuri's collarbone harder than usual. Yuri didn't seem to mind.

“Deal gone wrong,” he answered.

“Saved by you,” Yuri amended, sounding winded as Otabek kissed his jawline. “Almost with your life.”

“Its how I got the position beside your grandfather.”

“Its how we met.”

Otabek sat up. Yuri's golden blond hair curled around his head, having fallen haphazardly when Otabek flipped him over. 

“You look good in my shirt.”

Yuri smiled. He arched his body in the way he knew looked good, demure and it took all of Otabek's self control to not ravish him then and there.

“It's the most surefire way to get you all worked up.”

He reached down and pulled the too-large shirt up, bunching it under Yuri’s arms.

Unlike himself, Yuri's skin wasn't littered in scars. He was still young, at just 19 years old. Too young for any real position in their ranks.

Just two years; in two years, Yuri will be 21 and old enough to start learning the real inner workings of the family business, first under Viktor, then his grandfather.

In just two years, Yuri will be his age now. Otabek silently vowed to do anything he could to ensure Yuri would die an old man with grey hair and bright eyes, not a pawn against his grandfather and certainly not a sacrifice to their gang.

“...What are you thinking about?”

Otabek shook his head. “Nothing.”

He kissed Yuri again and allowed him to control it. When Yuri fought to flip their positions, Otabek held firm. 

“Fine,” he groaned. “Then do something. I'm bored.”

“Well. We can't be having that, can we?” Otabek nuzzled his nose against Yuri’s. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Yuri rolled his body upwards, against Otabek's. 

“Touch me already.”

So Otabek leaned back on his hunches, careful not to put too much of his weight onto Yuri, and dragged his hands down Yuri's chest. He watched with sheer delight as Yuri moved to follow his hands, to press himself against them harder.

When Otabek’s hands landed on his hipbones, resting there for a moment too long, Yuri looked furious. 

“God, you're a dick,” Yuri groaned. “Kiss me.”

He did. Otabek kissed Yuri until he was soft, pliant under him and letting out little, breathy noises. When he was satisfied Yuri was at least pleased with this, Otabek moved to mouth along his jaw.

“Better?” he asked, dragging his lips over the tender skin of his jaw. He pressed his lips against his cheek when Yuri didn’t say anything, prompting him for an answer. He got the hint, turning his head to face Otabek and nipped his kiss-bruised bottom lip. 

Yuri palmed his ass, forcing Otabek's hips to press hard against his. After that, it wasn't long before Otabek was pushing his trousers completely off and rolling on a condom from Yuri’s nightstand. 

It probably wasn't what Yuri had planned for first but the night was young and there was still time for more.

“Get on with it,” Yuri growled, hooking his ankles behind Otabek's back and attempting to use the position to pull the man closer.

Otabek licked into Yuri's mouth, doing his best to distract him from any pain he might feel as he sunk down into him.

The kiss broke as Yuri gasped for breath. Otabek was fully seated inside him, willing himself not to budge even a tiny bit until Yuri gave him the okay.

He pressed his forehead to Yuri’s. He wracked his eyes over him, watching the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took, the way the muscles in his jaw worked.

Yuri was beautiful,  _ his _ Yuri. His golden hair fanned about his head, his eyes screwed shut. Otabek kissed Yuri’s eyelids, chuckling when Yuri started to squirm under him. 

“You sentimental shit,” he groaned out. He rolled his hips, jaw falling slack as he worked himself on him. Otabek knew what this was prompting, what Yuri wanted from him, but he was too far too amused watching him to do anything just yet. 

Yuri dug his fingernails into the skin of Otabek’s shoulderblades. “ _ Move, _ ” Yuri demanded, canting his hips again. “ _ Fuck me already _ .”

So Otabek shifted his weight, kissed Yuri’s open mouth, and rolled his hips. He delighted in Yuri’s moan and did it again. 

 

“So, what do you think grandpa will think when he finds out you occasionally fuck me?”

“Yuri, I’d rather not think about your grandfather right now,” Otabek answered.

Yuri giggled, pleased with himself. He rolled onto his belly and half onto Otabek, twirling his finger around the scarred over bullet wound on his chest. He grinned when he saw the goosebumps ripple out over Otabek’s dark skin.

“Do you think Georgi will tell him?” Yuri posed next, trailing his finger lower as he spoke. “He certainly has no way to deny it anymore.”

“No, you definitely made it clear to him earlier,” Otabek retorted. “Are you nervous for him to discover this?”

Yuri hummed. “Not particularly. You’re his favorite. He probably won’t do anything to you.”

“ _ Probably _ .”

Yuri only managed a shrug in response before he was tossed onto his back once more with Otabek leaning over him. Otabek leaned down and kissed him.

“Guess we should make the most of tonight while we have it, huh?”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> find me on [ tumblr ](misstchotchke.tumblr.com)


End file.
